Achilles of Troy
by YuKiOnA-Ga
Summary: The end came and went-Troy had fallen and the gods accepted the fate of the men and women that lost their lives for a war that was begun and fought for greed. But, unknown to all but two: a goddess and a hero, a bargain was struck and time was altered for another chance and another outcome. One the fates cannot foresee or challenge. AchillesXBreseis
1. Prologue

**_So…I noticed no one seemed to try this idea and I just couldn't let it go until I put out there, so…First Troy fanfic, hope everyone enjoys it._**

**_Don't own Troy or Greek mythology or Homer's _****Iliad ****_or _****Odyssey****_._**

**_*Warning: This is going to be collaboration between different sources. It will not be completely correct in all aspects, and it must be changed in order to fit the plot. Carry on!_**

**_Prologue_**

The gods stared from the ivory towers, watching the fall of Troy. Apollo wept at the sight, shaking his head in woe as the King fell to the swords and spears of his enemies. Even Minerva and Neptune, who had aspired from the beginning to bring despair and destruction to Troy, bowed their heads in loss.

Even Jupiter and Juno admitted that the war had gone far too long and became far too terrible. They sighed, sharing a rare moment where they indeed agreed upon a common subject.

Pluto and Proserpine disappeared in a flourish of dark feathers, going to the Underworld to guide the heroes of both Troy and Greece into death. They did not mourn, not exactly-but they pitied the fathers and sons that fell for greed and the sake of destruction.

Neptune cursed Odysseus-he swore, triton in his hand, that he would not escape without paying a price for his cowardly, albeit clever, way to break into the Trojan world.

Not one of them knew the plan that one goddess was currently concocting.


	2. Chapter 1: The Fallen

**_Yukiona. _**

**_Yay! New chapter, up and ready to read. This'll also be short, but longer than before._**

**_Don't own _****Troy, The Illiad, ****_Greek Mythology._**

**_Chapter One: The Fallen_**

Breseis clung to her dying lover, swearing to Juno she would do anything to keep his heart beating, to keep her Achilles by her side. But he instructed her to leave him, commanded her she escape the dying city of Troy, despite her desperate attempts to remain with him.

"Take her," Achilles locked eyes with Paris, and her cousin nodded, gripping her under arms and began to drag her away forcefully.

"No!" She fought, as Achilles hand fell from her cheek. "I will not leave you!"

His smile was soft, showing her the content he found in the embrace of Pluto.

"You gave me peace," he told her, in attempt to ease the blow of his tragic fate, "In a time of war."

She sobbed openly, allowing Paris to lift her from the dying, shuddering section of earth that had become of the great city of Troy. She abandoned him, left him to face Pluto and Proserpine alone, and she cursed herself for it.

_'Achilles,'_ she sent a prayer to the Gods, so they might allow her to remain with him after her own blessed death, _'Oh, sweet, fleet-footed hero, I will love you, and only you, for all of my days…'_

)O(

Achilles expected to find himself on the far edge of the river Styx, had believed that he would have met the boatman, Charon, who would shake his empty palm awaiting his payment for the ferry-ride to the Underworld. But it was not so. He stood, he believed, on the beach of Troy, free of invading ships and pieces of drift wood. He stood, bearing his unmarred and clean skin to the sun, missing scars he had sustained in battle.

"Achilles, son Peleus," a voice, soft and smooth, like a pebble from a fast running river, spoke his title; he turned to see a woman, blonde and beautiful, standing close behind him.

He faced her, uncaring of his state of dress.

"Who are you?"

She smiled, a darkness in her rising to the surface, one the felled warrior could see and brought a strange tightness to his chest.

"All that is done, can be undone," she eyed his form, "but only if you wish it."

Achilles questioned her cryptic statement, but she merely toed the Aegean Sea, allowing her grey robes to darken with the touch of the waves.

"If you could have Breseis back, would you accept her?"

Achilles, although shocked, did not waver.

"Yes."

The goddess, as that was obviously what she was, smiled softly.

"Would you change your fate, if you could?"

"Of course, but-"

"And if," she stopped him with a sharp gaze over shoulder, "this opportunity was offered, would you take it?"

"To…return to the living world?"

"To go back, undo what has been done, rectify the outcome," she faced him, her all knowing gaze searing his pale blue eyes.

"Yes," he answered honestly.

She smiled again, before bowing her head in respectful greeting, despite the poor timing of it.

"I am Discordia, goddess of chaos."

Achilles retreated back in shock, and his feet buried into the sand, stopping him from moving any further. He attempted to pull them free, but to no avail.

"Halt, fleet-footed Achilles," Discordia's smile made quick sense now, how it made him so nervous, "I have an offer for you."

"I do _not_ accept," he spat emphatically.

"Hear me, young hero. I am offering you a chance to change your fate."

"You started this war," Achilles stood tall, "You began the contest—"

"Yes, yes, it was my entire fault," she rolled her eyes, "But I wish more chaos on the gods than you pitiful creatures. You merely seem to get in the way."

Achilles eyed her as she continued, moving in a slow circle around his bound feet.

"You are in my realm, ill-fated Achilles. A place where no god, nor seer, nor nymph, or mortal can gaze in and know of our agreement," she gripped his chin in a hand full of sharp claws and raised a golden apple to his eye.

"You can have Breseis, save Patroclus, Hector, Paris, and Astynax, slaughter Agamemnon with your sword, and bring Troy back from the ashes. Do you want it? Answer truthfully, son of Peleus."

Achilles hesitated, before nodding once, solemnly.

"What do you wish from me in return?" Asked the hero, knowing full well a bargain struck meant she acquired something as from him as well.

Discordia smiled, tossing her golden apple idly, a smirk on her lips.

"When you return," she paused to gaze up at him, "You will no longer fight for the Greeks-you shall battle side by side with your very murderer, as an ally of Troy."

)O(

Breseis coughed violently, tears forming in her eyes, as her body attempted to exhale the putrid fumes of smoke from the sacking of Troy. Her stomach roiled painfully and she bent, expelling pale liquid from her empty belly. The floors of deep wells of Troy's underground passages turned dark with her bile, and she placed her hand on the course stone walls, the sharpness of it clearing her head.

The defiled priestess placed a hand on her growing womb and begged her child to settle.

Andromache watched her cousin by marriage, but sister by choice, clutch and curl in pain. Truly, she had never witnessed a more difficult pregnancy, hers included, which was a harsh and long struggle. The childless widow did not hate beloved of Achilles-for she knew that Cupid's arrow was as fatal as Paris' had been.

"Easy," Andromache pulled Breseis' once shiny curls from her sweating, flushed face. "Do not strain yourself. Rest, my cousin. Your child begs you rest."

The younger woman shook her head briskly, "No, we must continue, lest we risk discovery, and with it, death."

Indeed, there were a few times when the group of women were able to fend off raiders from the city of Troy, after they had found the passage ways and began to search for survivors and escapees. Paris had died shortly after he had saved Breseis and slaughtered Achilles, and Helen gave herself up to the men that searched the caverns, and they quickly stripped her of her head and limbs, leaving her to float endlessly as a spirit, lost.

"I will not allow you to lose this babe, Breseis," Andromache snapped, the loss of Astynax bringing tears to her eyes, "Not for stubbornness."

"We all will die if we do not leave this place," she fired back, mouth still wet with her lost nutrients.

"Drink," Andromache attempted to give her water, but the small, weaker woman denied her.

"Nay," she stood straight, "We no longer have Hector, nor Achilles, nor Paris to protect us. We must move quickly-acquire food, water, shelter," she pulled her cousin forward, "Then I will rest my weary body."

"Then you will birth your child," Andromache smiled softly, knowingly, "And we will praise the gods for Pandora's sole gift in her box of curses."

The two women rested their open palms over the crest of the priestess' growing body.

"Hope," Breseis whispered.

**Thanks for reading!**

**Yukiona Ga**


	3. Chapter 2: The Revived

**Hello! Forgive me for the wait! Another chapter is here for you, my friends and beloved readers!**

**I don't own Troy or the Iliad or Greek Mythology.**

Chapter Two: The Revived

Achilles stood, eyes wide and unfocused as he stared at the goddess of discord.

"Fight for Troy?"

"Yes."

"How do you expect me to manage that? Athena will abandon me, and who will follow my command? My warriors will not agree-"

"I will assist you," Discordia quieted him, "And do you believe for even a moment that Athena will abandon you? She is devoted to your strength and battle strategy. She would follow you to Hades...and she will follow you to Troy."

Achilles, bewildered, though of the chaos-bringers words.

"Let me show you something," Discordia turned and Achilles feet were freed, allowing him to stride some yards away, where an altar lay by the lapping shore.

With a flick of her fingers, a pedestal rose, a bowl of silver rising up to the height of the warrior's midsection. Water sat, still and calm, like it was never disturbed, in the bottom of the disk.

"Gaze, Achilles, hero of the Greeks, and see the wretched fate of your sole love."

The blond man warily stared at the water, amazed as it bled grey before turning black as ink. The image brightened painfully, revealing the Trojan sun slaying a small group of women (no males could Achilles see, save a babe clutching his weak mother's hand).

Among them was Breseis. Her skin was dry, blisters bubbling along the crests of her cheek. Her hair, once luxurious, was now caked with dust and seemed as if a lock could break like poorly baked pottery between his fingers. Her lips, which Achilles had bitten and suckled, were cracked and split, like the dry earth under her tired and aching feet.

She was dying.

"Breseis," Achilles gripped the bowl, wishing to reach her through the magical water.

"Look closely, Lord of Phthia. Do you see what she bears of yours?"

"The necklace from my mother," he murmured, seeing the glint of the metal and shells that hung at her red, sun burnt throat.

"Closer, Achilles," Discordia urged softly.

Casting a confused glance at the marble pale goddess, the hero pushed his head closer to the still water revealing the slow death of his lady-love.

"Do you mean...?" Can she possibly be...?"

The thought seemed impossible, inconceivable, but it rattled in his brain like the laugh of a sea-nymph.

"She holds your child in her womb. And even if she manages to somehow find shelter and food, I doubt she will survive the birth," she sighed, as if it was shame.

Achilles felt his heart had truly stopped since the first time he had died. He spun from the sight of Breseis and his unborn child, cursing himself and the gods for the situation the priestess was now facing.

"You can save her, Achilles. You can save her and your child, change your fate, keep Troy's walls strong. Marry your beloved-wed the woman you entrust to bear your child."

Achilles, hero of the Greeks, was now very interest in Discordia's offer.

"What would happen if Troy had won this war?"

She shrugged, "Agamemnon will either retreat or die. You may have to fight his remaining followers, but the Myrmidions' would not struggle very hard in that."

"And the gods? Will they turn from me?"

"Not if you praise them. They care more for you than that beast of a king."

"What do you believe they will do when Troy continues to stand?"

Discordia thought over her words, making Achilles anxious.

"The gods have been involved in this war from the beginning," she admitted, "And they will do whatever they can to see their desired results. But even we gods fail." She sighed, "And there is the chance the outcome could be worse."

Achilles considered her words.

"I will accept your offer, goddess; but on one condition."

Discordia raised a brow, a chuckle on her lips.

"And that is, mighty Achilles?"

"Whatever the end, Breseis lives-happy, healthy, and always able to depend on your assistance."

"Done!" Discordia grinned, and offered him her golden apple. "Think to where you wish to begin again and take a bite, Achilles of Troy."

Achilles took the forbidden fruit in his palm, feeling the honeyed flesh in his fingers. Glancing at her smiling, expectant face, Achilles took a deep breath.

"Take me to my ship as we reached the beach of Troy, not under two months ago," he spoke aloud.

With a bit of courage, Achilles tore a hunk of firm flesh with his teeth, hardly having a second to taste the sweetness before he was standing on his ship, the beach of Troy not a league in front of him.

Patroclus was approaching him, but immobile, looking small under the armor he wore. The seas stood, mid-crest, silent and glinting under the sun. The gulls were suspended in flight, and the world was silent and calm, eerily so.

Discordia was perched on the side of his ship, smiling, pleased.

"A reminder, dear son of Peleus-not all decisions must be altered. Some things turned invaluably towards your favor. Think before you act, hero Achilles."

And she was gone, and his mens' cheers rose to his ears, his own words still in the air.

"_Immortality! Take it, it's yours!"_

And then, to Achilles great joy, his long dead cousin now stood before him, alive and whole once more.

Seeing him, his cheeks flushed with the suns harshness, perspiration on his brow and upper lip, Achilles swore that no sword, nor arrow, nor the will of Jupiter would tear the boys life away. Not again.

"You do as you're told," Achilles demanded, taking his arm, "If you disobey my orders, cousin, it will be the end of your days in battle, you will no longer fight by me."

Patroclus stared, mouth agape as the Myrmidons ship crashed into the sand and the war of Greece and Troy began. Achilles was as ferocious as before, slaying every Trojan soldier before him.

Throats were slit, limbs severed, and bones were cut clean through. Upon reaching Apollo's temple, Achilles paused, knowing well that Hector was not far off and Breseis was somewhere within the four walls.

_"How dare you?!" _An inhuman voice screeched, an the warrior saw Discordia, hair now dark and swinging violently around her as if whipped by great winds. _"You breach our agreement?"_

"Nay," Achilles saw Hector and his band of Trojans over her shoulder, and took the spear from an oddly frozen Eudorus. "Agamemnon, my men, as well as the gods would question my weakness. You yourself had said that not all had to change."

Her fury was quickly changed to shocked understanding.

"Indeed, hero," she smiled, pleased, "Carry on."

And time began again.

With deadly aim, Achilles threw his spear, striking one main in the chest, and making the others fear his strength.

The men, needing no goading, rushed within the temple and began to sack the gold and treasures that lay inside. Breseis and Chryseis among them.

Achilles and Eudorus slipped into the stone structure, awaiting the Trojan prince and his warriors, slaying nearly all those that entered.

Hector followed Achilles as before.

"You must be either very brave, or very stupid to come after me alive," Achilles spoke his words again, recalling each with clarity. "You must be Hector."

Standing, he said again, "Do you know who I am?"

Seething, Hector spat, "These priests," he motioned to the bodies at his feet, and Achilles knew he was truly furious because he believed Breseis to be somewhere among the dead, slain by Achilles men, "Were not armed."

Hector lurched forward, and the fleet-footed hero danced away, clinging to the altar of Apollo.

"Fight me," the prince of Troy snarled.

Achilles walked away, bearing his back in a careless, unworried manner, mocking the prince. He stepped from the room and gazed at the beach of Troy, now taken by Agamemnon.

"Why kill you now, Prince of Troy," Achilles taunted, wanting to rile the man, "With no one here to see you fall?"

Hector followed him, sword raised.

"Why did you come here?"

"They'll be talking about this war for a thousand years," he answered, staring into the vast, endless ocean and wondering briefly of his mother.

"In a thousand years, the dust from our bones will be gone."

"Yes, Prince, but our names will remain. Go home, Prince," he smiled to the seas, "Drink some wine, make love to your wife. Tomorrow we shall have our war."

Hector stared.

Achilles sighed and gestured to his men to stand down.

"You speak of war as if it's a game. How many wives wait at Troy's gates for husbands they'll never see again?" Hector glared from beneath his gilded helmet.

"Perhaps," the original retort died on his lips, and instead he said, softly, "You should be grateful your wife will not be amongst them today."

Hector growled, and Achilles tipped his head away and clicked his tongue, ushering the Prince to escape behind Troy's gates.

"My lord," Eudorus began, stunned, "You let him go?"

"It's too early in the day for killing princes," he muttered, turning to go to his camp and find his captured prize and relish in her presence whilst he could.

)O(

**I hope you enjoyed it! Please review, because it makes me as happy as a camel on hump day!**


	4. Chapter 3: The Undefeated

**Hello! I've been getting so much traffic and so much love for this story, I've updated rather early! Hope you enjoy it!**

_**Chapter 3: The Undefeated**_

The cheers of all of Greece's soldiers were heavy in Achilles ear, making him wince. When Patroclus appeared, the warrior clutched his cousin around the shoulders and kissed his forehead, still amazed that he was here before him.

"I may save you yet," he murmured, smoothing the young man's hair affectionately.

Eudorus smiled, and when the three began again towards the Myrmidon camp, Patroclus under his cousins arm, he cleared this throat.

"I have something to show you, my lord," he announced.

Achilles knew instantly what his friend spoke of, and followed his second in command to his tent, where his unknowing love awaited him.

)O(

Breseis was delirious. She had fasted nearly forty-eight hours in order to take the vows of an acolyte, and the heat of the Trojan sun had sapped what little energy she had left, and with it, her clear head.

When _he_ stepped into the cool tent, she believed him to be Apollo, come to rescue the trapped priestess, and she wished to tell him of Chryseis, her good friend and other acolyte of the god.

And then another spoke, bringing clarity into her mind with a sharp stab of fear.

"The men found her, hidden in the temple," the darker man grinned, eyeing her helpless, bound form. "They thought she would...amuse you."

Achilles summoned the memory as Eudorus stepped from his camp, and had to push away his desire to wrap her in his arms and take her to the brink and back.

"What's your name?" He asked, stripping his armor as he had done before, washing away the dirt and blood from his tanned skin.

She said nothing, eyes unclear.

"Your name, priestess?"

"You killed Apollo's priests..."

Had she always looked so sickly, so weak? Were the wounds always so red adn angry appearing? Achilles could not recall with much certainty.

"I've killed many men," the hero admitted, wrapping a loose skirt around his hips, "But never a priest."

"Then your men did!" She spat, still not looking at him.

Achilles stalked over to her and pinched her chin in his thumb and forefinger.

"War ends lives," he bit off her name quickly, remembering she had not yet introduced herself, "Be thankful you are not among the many journeying to the Underworld this day."

She tore her face from his calloused grip.

"I would rather wander the edge of the River Styx for all eternity than be a whore to a Greek soldier."

Achilles clucked his tongue, grabbing a knife to cut her binds. Her eyes widened and her breath quickened, fear in every feature.

"Easy," he soothed, "I'm letting you loose. Will you tell me your name?"

She eyed him warily as she rubbed her bruised wrists with a pained expression. Indeed, even Achilles could see the stark lines where the ropes had bit into her soft feminine skin.

"Even acolyte of Apollo's temple have names," he smiled a bit at her pout.

"Breseis," she finally murmured, after a few moments.

"Eat and bathe, Breseis," he motioned to the food and water in his camp. "You have no reason to fear me."

She stared at him oddly when he cupped her cheek gently.

Eudorus came and summoned him to Agamemnon, where Achilles became uncertain. Should he leave, they would take Breseis away-thus insulting him and bestowing a curse among the Greek troops. However, he wanted her as safe as possible, and putting her in Agamemnon's hands was the least safe place a woman could be. He hesitated, before making the decision that would best benefit a better outcome, even if it meant pain for the two of them for a short while.

Donning his armor, Achilles left his Breseis to be captured, his ire flaring violently as he thought of the horrible things that Agamemnon may do to his precious priestess while they were alone. He knew he never penetrated her-for she was a virgin when he took her, but that didn't mean that she was left completely untouched and undefiled.

He appeared before the King of Kings as the others presented him with gifts and praise for a battle won by others hands and blood.

"Leave us," Agamemnon commanded with a wave of his hand.

Odysseus appeared, clapping the fellow warrior on the shoulder.

"War is young men dying and old men talking. You know this," he advised, before moving on and out of the ship.

Knowing the other man's plan, Achilles tongue was as sharp as any blade.

"I hear you have won some great battle," he spat, "Although you shed no blood."

Agamemnon smiled, "As you can see, soldier, my army has stolen this beach from King Priam and now it belongs to me."

"Take the beaches-sand doesn't interest me," Achilles reigned his righteous fury with all of his strength.

"No," his face sobered, "You came so that your name will last through the ages."

Agamemnon became insufferable in an instant.

"A great victory was won today. But that victory was not yours. Kings did not kneel to Achilles-Kings did not pay homage to Achilles."

"Perhaps the kings were too far behind-it was soldiers that won the battle," Achilles growled, his mind, as if in battle, began to slow with his formation of a plan and strategy.

"HIstory remembers kings!" He stood, face pink with indignation. "Not soldiers! Tomorrow we will batter down the gates of Troy. I'll build monuments on every island of Greece. I'll carve '_Agamemnon' _in the very stones of history!"

"Be careful, King of Kings," Achilles threatened, dangerous, "First you require the victory."

The king's face twisted, and the great warrior knew what was coming from the wretched man before he opened his mouth and spat the words at him.

"You men sacked the temple of Apollo, yes?"

"You want gold? Take it." He gritted, "It is my gift to you, my King, to honor your great _courage in battle._ Take all you wish."

His smile made the soldier want to peel his lips from his grey teeth with his sharpened blade.

"I already have. Aphareus! Haemon!" He called, and Achilles heard Breseis struggle, whining and crying like an injured bird.

Agamemnon sneered, "The spoils of war."

"If you ever wish to see home again, brothers, you will release her," Achilles threatened, hands at his sword, knowing he would still lose. "Decide, now!"

She needed to know he'd kill for her.

"Guards!"

Drawing his blade, Achilles froze when Breseis demanded they stop.

"If killing is your only talent, that's your curse," she spat, "I don't want anyone dying for me!"

Achilles slowly sheathed his sword, blatantly showing the acolyte it was for her sake and no others. He had no desire to slay anyone before her, anyway. For she was strong of heart, and that is a deadly trait when in battle.

"Mighty Achilles, silenced by a slave-girl." Agamemnon sneered, "Tonight, I'll have her give me a bath. And then...who knows?"

"Be warned, King," Achilles said, thinking of what would be. "This is a slight against me and the gods. You may have appeased Apollo by releasing Chryseis to her father-but it will not be so easy with Jupiter and your blatant insults against me. You will lament your poor decision, King of Kings-I will see to that. Personally."

With a silent promise to free Breseis, Achilles stormed from the ship and headed to his camp, meaning and dedication with every foot in the sand, leaving marks of promise by the sea, putting things in motion even he knew not of the consequence.

**Please let me know what you think! I love reviews! They make me update a helluva lot faster...;)**


	5. Chapter 4: Of Virgins and Mothers

**Hello, all! Because of your wonderful reviews and favorites, I have updated early! It's short, but dramatic!**

**Also I want to point something out to you all: You see my little )O( symbol? You will see only ONE in each chapter, that's how I'll update. Whether it's short or long, it doesn't matter, it's TWO sections from the whole. Sorry it's short, but it's consistent. Please enjoy!**

**I own absolutely nothing!**

_**Chapter 4: Of Virgins and Mothers**_

Breseis, as the niece of the King of Troy and a dedicated virgin to Apollo, never once saw the length of a man before her capture. Her peripheral glance at the Trojan slayer Achilles, however, was far more pleasing to the eye than the pale, unkept body of King Agamemnon.

"Come here, girl," the pig-like man beckoned, standing bare by the water basin. "Service me."

Slowly, keeping her eyes on her hands, Breseis ran the water and oils over his foul smelling skin, being quick and efficient.

She imagined herself in the temple, sacrifices and incense in the air, filling Apollo's altar. She begged forgiveness for her weakness and inability to stop whatever this horrible king may force upon her.

_'If he attempts to steal my virginity,' _she swore silently, _'I will fight him. And if I lose under his brutality, may you slay him and his army with your bow, mighty Apollo!'_

"Tomorrow, slut," he grinned savagely, "I shall break the walls of Troy with my army. And in celebration," he eyed her body with slim, hungry eyes. "I will spill your virgin blood and make you a slave to my touch."

The young woman, newly reaching eighteen springs, saw his length began to stiffen and rise, and bile pooled in her mouth.

"Go," he ordered, "before I enjoy your spoils prematurely."

She ran. Scared half out of her mind, she ran from his ship, each man she came upon appearing more and and more like an animal.

A boy stopped her, not much older than she was.

"Easy," he murmured, "before you hurt yourself."

She wrenched away, half-mad with fright.

He put his hands up, as if surrendering.

"I am Patroclus," he said, eyes a familiar shade of blue. "What is your name?"

Another soldier, larger, seized her arm and began to haul her back to Agamemnon's quarters. She clawed and fought, but was brought back to his accursed cell, where he beat her heartily and severely for her insolence.

)O(

Achilles walked among the Trojan beaches, thinking of each movement that would lead him, his soldiers, and Breseis to the gates of Troy, unharmed and trusted on the battlefield to slay the Greek invaders.

"Mother," Achilles called to the sea, and hearing his summons, she rose from the oceans foam to meet her son.

"What ails you, son?"

"Agamemnon has stolen my war prize," Achilles told her, "Since his own cursed his army with pestilence and plague. He has insulted me, mother, and I fear I may not be able to tolerate his blatant disrespect."

Her eyes shone with inhuman fury.

"How dare that..." she sought out a term.

"Sack of wine?" He offered, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Well put, son," she agreed, "He believes the gods aid him? Ha!"

Achilles grinned at her anger, reminding him of where his infamous blood-lust originated.

"Do they stand with me then, mother?"

"Every one of them," she seethed, "I will curse him, send him begging you to join him and his army, and have Mars and Minerva praising every swing of your sword! Every drop of blood you spill into the sands! Every cry that is sent into the heavens, '_Achilles! Achilles! Achilles!' _You will be unstoppable! You will-"

"What if I refuse?" He asked, cutting her off quickly, his voice soft.

She went still, her chest no longer rising with breath.

"Return to Phthia?"

"No."

She stared at him.

"Fight for Troy," he said, softly, afraid that the wind would spread the admittance.

She pondered his words, "Fight for King Priam, slaughterer of your kin?"

"He is more honorable than King Agamemnon."

"He's killed Myrmidons," she said, simply.

"I've killed Trojans," he fired back.

She was silent for a long time.

"Win the war for the Greeks, and your name will survive for thousands of years. Win the war for the Trojans..." She smiled, quite feral, "And every nation, until Gaia can no longer support the world she bore, will know of your actions for the nation under siege by the forces of Agamemnon."

Achilles smiled.

"But, for it to be justified," she told him, solemnly, "he must insult you to your _very blood_."

**Hope you liked it! Please review...you know if you push that button, updates come faster because I am a happy camper. **

**-Yukiona**


	6. Chapter 5:BattlesChaos and Conformity

**__****Hello, my wondrous readers! Please enjoy this new chapter and take a moment to review! Remember: if I'm happy, more gets posted quicker!**

_**Chapter 5: Battles of Chaos and Conformity**_

Mount Olympus was in _utter chaos._

And Discordia was absolutely _loving it._

"What does he mean, _fight for the Trojans?!_" Minerva rounded on her vicious brother, "Does he mean to win the war for Troy?!"

Mars swept a whet stone across his blade methodically.

"Appears so," he murmured.

For a goddess of grace, strategy in battle and honorable victories, Minerva was not acting according to her title. She screeched like a bird of prey and drew her sword, pacing like a caged lion, pointing first at Mercury, then Apollo, before spitting out curses like lightning striking at the gods' feet.

"_What have you done?!" _She snarled, "_Who had tempted Achilles, the hero of Greece, the most talented of warriors, to join the Trojan ranks?!" _

No one spoke, and Discordia hid behind a pillar of the great hall, eyeing their stony faces with a grin of satisfaction. Nyx, the goddess of the night, stood with her children and heard the pleasure of her daughter, despite the fact she could not see her, and said nothing as Mars stood against his sister, covered in blood of fallen victims, adorned with their shattered bones in idol-like, macabre armor.

"Perhaps he sees the worth of Troy," he egged her on, spitting at her feet in disrespect. His banged his sword upon his shield, preparing for battle, "Since Agamemnon _blatantly stole his well won prize_."

"Such a slight would not turn him Greece," Neptune, another ally of Greece, interrupted, "This was placed before him!"

Minerva rounded on the brother of Jupiter, spear point raised to his throat.

"Your nymph does not assist our cause! She all but told him to go!"

"Only if Agamemnon is foolish enough to insult him further," Juno smiled at the furious goddess of war, still angered by the contest many years before, "And then it would be well-deserved."

"Why do you assist the Greeks?" Apollo stood, bow golden gleaming in his hand. "Priam has been respectful and dedicated all his life-Agamemnon, however, nearly mocks us with his disrespect."

"You are merely angered because of Chriseus," Janus, with his two faces intoned simultaneously, "That is why you slay the Greeks with plague."

"Does Priam not build temples and altars to every god and goddess?" Venus fought, "Nyx, Demeter, Luna, Sol, Diana, Apollo, Jupiter, Juno, are you not praised with sacrifices, with gifts and offerings? We are all represented in the city of Troy."

"And not under Agamemnon are we cared for or recognized," Apollo agreed.

"I will _not allow this_!" Athen screeched, seething. She began to charge at Mars, who was sneering at her with an evil simper on his lips.

_"Silence!"_

The hall shuddered with the might of the thunder god, and Discordia hid quickly, assuring that no one could see her. After so many millennia of being blamed (and most of the time being at fault), she had learned to hide her trail to disruptive actions.

"_No one_ interferes," the great god eyed his daughter, "The mortals do as they will. What will be, will be."

Athena, unable to do as she pleased, disappeared in a wave of owl feathers, the ground shaking in her furious wake. Mars laughed at his sisters childishness, and feasted upon a bunch of grapes, wondering if Achilles needed any assistance in blood-lust.

Discordia bounced in hardly contained glee. Chaos, _sweet chaos,_ how she missed such fights, such _discord_, such blatant resentment and arguments among the Olympians.

This outcome will be far better than the last, she knew.

)O(

Eudorus paced nervously, Patroclus and standing by Achilles' tent, waiting for their captain to emerge. Once the remaining Myrmidons gathered to see where the blond Prince was, Eudorus, along with Patroclus went inside to see Achilles using a sharp blade and the shiny metal of an offering tray to shave the stubble from his chin and cheeks.

"Good morning, my Lord," Eudorus greeted, kindly, but confused.

Achilles mumbled a reply, careful not to nick the flesh of his throat.

"The soldiers are prepared for battle," the second in command continued, "...When shall we march?"

Achilles washed away the cut hair with a handful of water, before flicking the excess from his fingers. Standing straight, the hero flexed and stretched his shoulder, replying nonchalant,

"We will not be fighting today, my friend. Inform the men."

Eudorus nodded in agreement, thoroughly loathing Agamemnon and his rule, and quickly informed the soldiers that they would not be assisting in the battle with Troy this day.

Patroclus stared at him with eyes as blue as his own, accusation and judgement spoken clearly and loudly through silence.

Achilles began to speak, anger rising in him, but then stopped himself abruptly, a plan to teach the young Myrmidon a lesson, evolving in his mind.

"Come, cousin," he pulled him from his tent, taking his sword and shield with him.

The men eyed their captain as he drew a large ring in the soft sand with the sheath of his sword before calling all the stand around it.

"Weapons?" He questioned, and his soldiers struck their shields with their spears and blades, telling that they, indeed, bore their weapons.

"Achilles?" Patroclus murmured, a bit of nervousness in his voice.

The older male handed him both his sword and bronze-plated shield.

"Step into the ring," the hero gestured to the crudely drawn circlet he had previously made.

Patroclus hesitated, wondering, and then agreed, standing in the center.

Achilles eyed his soldiers briefly, before picking one.

"Illios," he summoned. "To the center."

A large man came to the front, not much younger than Achilles himself, questions in his stare as he stood by the young cousin of his fearless leader.

"Here are my orders: sheaths will remain on all blades, only shields and swords can be used, and you will not stop until I command you so. Patroclus."

The young man turned hard, nervous eyes to his dearly beloved cousin.

"This is the time to prove yourself."

The dark haired boy nodded, determined and retreated a few paces before taking an offensive stance.

Illios hesitated, knowing full well that any harm brought to the boy would be paid for in his own blood and bone. Taking a defensive stance, he prayed to Minerva to keep him safe from the deadly fury of Achilles.

Patroclus was the first to strike, blade singing with speed. Illios parried and spun, blocking another swift attack to his right flank, raising his shield. Patroclus, reckless, threw his bronze plated shield away, thrusting forward.

Achilles tutted, before motioning another soldier, hungry for a battle lost, into the ring with his young cousin.

Not watching his back, Patroclus received a hard blow to the shoulder, making him cry out as a welt bloomed from the heavy, sheathed metal.

Achilles grit his teeth, knowing it was far more pleasant than his previous fate.

_'Better bruises than blood,' _he convinced himself, _'Better pain than death.'_

The boy, always a quick learner, immediately began fending off two opponents, kicking one to the ground before going on the offensive again. Matched nearly blow for blow, Achilles sent another soldier in.

"My Lord," Eudorus questioned, panicked.

"I would rather him know what war is like with sheathed swords, surrounded by his kinsmen and fellow Myrmidons than on the battlefield with a dagger in his throat," the blond leader intoned softly, eyes never leaving his young progeny, lest he truly need him.

By seven opponents, Patroclus was in bad shape. He bore thick, purpling bruises along his arms, legs and torso, a bloodied lip from where a soldier brought the hind end of his sword to his face, and a swollen eye.

He dropped his sword and fell to his knees, where he spat a mouthful of blood on the sand. Everyone stopped and stared at Achilles as Patroclus rolled onto his back, coughing and moaning in pain.

"Get up, cousin," Achilles commanded, "For if this was a real battle, you would either be trampled or have your throat slit."

Patroclus struggled, but could not regain his footing.

Achilles marched to him, and with the help of another soldier, put him on his feet. Achilles placed the blade before him and the young man shook his head, near tears with desperation.

"No more, Achilles," he gurgled, blood in his mouth and throat, staining his teeth pink.

Achilles steeled his resolve.

"Is that what you will ask of the Trojans, cousin? 'No more'?"

"I'm not ready," Patroclus suddenly cried, falling to his knees, "I'm not ready for war! Please, cousin, I beg of you, I cannot endure any more!"

Although the display was womanly and weak, it eased Achilles heart more than any battle ready promises could. The whole camp, nearly empty as a battle raged at Troy's gates, was silent, staring at the Lord of Phthia and his young cousin.

Achilles kneeled and kissed his cousin on the forehead.

"I have taught you how to fight-but I never taught you _why _to fight," Achilles said softly.

"I fight for you," Patroclus whimpered.

"And when I am gone?" He questioned.

The hazy gaze of his cousin wavered, "Soldiers...obey..."

"But you are more than a soldier, Patroclus. You are a man-with morals, beliefs and a mind all your own. Do not spend your days, your strength and your blood on a worthless king like Agamemnon."

Dazed, Patroclus murmured, staring into his cousins eyes, mirror images.

"Then why...are you?"

Achilles grinned and embraced his kinsmen.

"You are far too clever for war, cousin, far too clever."

**You know you love it...hit that button and I'll quickly throw up another chapter. Let me know what you think!**


	7. Chapter 6: Women and Lions

**Chapter 6: **

_Women and Lions_

A hand grabbed her arm and she gasped, before being pulled into the realm of night, the darkness making her anxious, knowing that her mother wasn't far off. Discordia scowled when she realized just what happened, and waited for her scolding like a sulking child.

"What are you playing at, girl?" Nyx twirled her fingers through her daughters hair and yanked, making Discordia send stars falling and skittering through the skies, chaos in her wake.

"Angry, mother?" She taunted, as the goddess sought to calm the disrupted night.

"You are behind this, aren't you?" The woman asked, dark hair like the carpet of midnight, stars shimmering in the strands. "I have tolerated you far enough. The contest you began brought upon war to the humans, these pathetic mortals are scrambling to save themselves and their families, all because you were_ jealous_ you were not _invited to a wedding_. So you decide to begin a game between the goddess', and end up breaking a marriage and destroying lives. Oh, yes, my dear, I am angry, and you _will stop this right here_."

Discordia shrugged, "Perhaps the boy merely saw more worth in living rather than dying."

"Why must you tamper with Apollo? With Minerva and Neptune? Do you wish to be forever banished? Or worse?"

Discordia's smile slowly faded, "I am a goddess of disruption, chaos and destruction. Why do I tamper with the gods? Because that it my nature-I was made this way. I chose nothing of my fate, it chose _me_."

"You poor decision making has ultimately proved otherwise."

Discordia glared, "How kind of my mother to praise me so."

"What do you want? What could you possibly gain from Troy's success?"

"I have no part in these plots," Discordia stood tall, "And you have no right to accuse me of such."

Nyx sighed, pained, "Daughter-"

"Goodbye, mother. How lovely our meeting was."

She disappeared in whirlwind of shattered stars.

"Be careful," the dark goddess finished, shaking her head.

)O(

Breseis had never felt so weak, or so utterly helpless. She had not eaten since she was within the Greek, Achilles' tent, and she felt heavy and sick with fatigue. Her stomach roiled painfully, and she swallowed the bile that pooled heavily, thick and bitter, in her mouth.

The tiered tent stretched over the formidable beached ships were dark-and after her attempt at escape, she was quickly sent under the deck to a metal cage, hardly large enough to lie down in. The wood smelled of salt and rot, and breseis felt as though she would choke and die with that reek in her nose.

When someone above opened the door that led to the surface, the light from his fire burned her eyes more than it would have seared her flesh. The brutish, thick-set man unlocked her cell before grabbing her by her thick and and hauled her cruelly to her weak feet, that drug along and rolled painfully as the young girl was led to the beach, where she was mercilessly tossed to the sand.

"A gift," her transporter snarled, to a hoard of Greek soldiers leering at her body, "From your King."

The cheer that rose among the men would most certainly haunt her nightmares for the rest of her days. They laughed and whistled, snickered and sneered, making a heavy weight settle in Breseis belly.

To describe all of the things that happened that night would surely have maidens swearing against men-for amongst the groping, the leering, and disgusting statements lay the true wickedness of man.

The soldiers tossed her limp body around, mocking and humiliating her.

"Oh, what a pair you have, young priestess," one licked the shell of her ear as he squeezed both breasts roughly, even as she clawed fruitlessly.

"Give her here, give her here!" Someone called as she was yanked and shoved into another's grip, nearly stumbling into the sand again.

"Virgin robes?! You won't be needing those much longer!"

They tore the flimsy fabric to her waist, and panicking, full of adrenaline and fear, Breseis clawed the face of the man before her and he shouted with rage, brandishing a red-hot iron in which to scar the soft underside of her breast that was bared them.

Breseis looked to the skies and prayed for Apollo to save her.

"Achilles!"

The acolyte was dropped to the sand, exhausted and delirious, amazed as her original captor slew a Spartan with the iron she had nearly face not moments ago.

"Who dares lay hands on the war-prize of Achilles?" He roared, looking truly like a god in his armor and grieves, arms bare.

The men were silent.

"Agamemnon surrendered her to us," a voice rang out, making the men search for the fool who dared admit such.

Discordia grinned, staring at Achilles from where she sat on the ledge of the ridge beside the Greek encampment.

"Such insults will prove fatal," the demigod spat like and enraged lion, "Agamemnon will mourn the loss of Achilles-as will your families, who shall know that my sword may have saved your descent to the Underworld."

After locking eyes with a number of the soldiers, all staring apprehensively at one another, nervousness in their eyes at the bold claim from the brave Achilles.

The hero then gently lifted a near unconscious Breseis from the sand, her moan like a plea in his ears as he whisked her to the Myrmidon camp, where his men stared and seethed in fury at the sight of their Lord's war-prize treated like a common, Spartan whore.

Eudorus and Odysseus stood by his tent.

"Speak quickly, my friend, for I have other matters to attend to."

Odysseus winced at the sight of the beaten priestess in the other man's arms.

"King Agamemnon wishes to..." he swallowed, "Return your prize."

Achilles lip curled in disgust, and Eudorus snorted derisively.

"Before or after she was raped by thirty and five men?" Achilles spat, fury in every feature.

The King of Ithica began to reply, but Achilles shook his head and ducked into his hut, where he placed the priestess on his bed of furs, gently lifting her to sit straight.

Seeing her made his blood burn like the sands slain by the Trojan summer. Her eyelashes were coated in cracking, dried blood that poured from a wound above her brow. The cut in her lip had split and was dripping down her chin. Her chest was bared to him, and a number of bruises shaped like thick fingers surrounded her breasts and arms. Her eyes were clouded and her body was weak-leaving her limp like a plant pulled from the earth.

"Breseis," Achilles called to her, "Breseis."

Her eyes spun lazily to meet his panicked expression. He raised a goblet to her lips filled with cool water, and when a drop graced her thick and parched tongue, she latched on to the cup with both hands and guzzled it away.

Achilles sighed softly through his nose, relieved to see her snap to life. She drank nearly two pitchers before Achilles gave her food, fresh fruit, which she stared at anxiously, awareness and worry in her gaze as she chewed on her split lip.

"Eat," he told her, placing the tray between them.

She hesitantly took a date, biting it in half before chewing slowly. She eyed him with her deep, honeyed eyes.

"Why?" She murmured, her strength regaining.

"Why save you?" The question had him reeling.

"Why do you care?"

"Why do you not?"

She glared, a spark in her flaring that made him smirk at the sight. She was not one for weakness-it did not become Breseis to be a weak damsel, pining after the hero to save her.

"I was unaware that soldiers cared for anything other than war."

"We care for many things-I myself, care for you."

She eyed him, uncomfortable, taking a heavy, pink apple in her palm, biting into hit. She chewed fro a long moment, staring at the furs around her feet.

"I saw you fight them," Achilles commended her, noticing the wounds in her skin. "You have great courage."

The words he spoke before still came so easily.

"To fight back when people attack me? A dog has that kind of courage," she scowled, disappointed in her just actions of retaliation.

Achilles bent and retrieved a coarse cloth from another basin of water. She gave him that same furious, unwavering stare as she did before, and Achilles fixed her with an identical expression.

"Your wounds must be cleaned," he pressed the cloth to her throat and she slapped his hands away.

"Woman, do not fight me," he warned, his eyes blazing. This was not for her-this was for him and his own conscious.

Breseis settled, but glared as he cleaned sand and blood from her tawny skin. Once finished, he sent a soldier for more food and a robe to replaced her torn one.

"I've known men like you my whole life," she said clearly, her title in her voice as she bundled the rip cloth to her chest.

_'Must we travel down this beaten path again?'_ The hero thought with an audible snort.

"What, do you believed to be different than a thousand others?" She spat, her capture making her feel helpless and so she lashed out. "Soldiers have no _compassion_-they understand nothing but war. Peace confuses them."

"And the soldiers that died trying to protect you?" His words fired like great bronze spears, "Are they so inhuman, so animalistic and base?"

"Why did you choose this life?"

"I chose nothing, Breseis-I was born and this is what I am."

She looked down, staring at the near black skin of the grapes she held, her mind spinning violently.

"And you? Why did you choose to love a god?" He knew he shouldn't finish his original comment, but it was great fun to tease her, "I think you will find the romance to be a bit...one-sided."

She curled her lip in disgust at his slight smirk.

"Do you enjoy provoking me?"

"You've dedicated your life to the gods. Jupiter, god of thunder. Minerva, goddess of wisdom. You serve them."

She nodded, saying nothing, as if she could feel from the last time they sat there, in that very tent, that he was going to rattle her world with his next words.

"And Mars, god of war, who blankets his bed with the skin of men he's killed? And Discordia, goddess of chaos, who brings war and desolation to Troy's very gates?"

Her eyes, usually so sharp, so piercing with unveiled conviction, fell as she thought.

"All the gods are to be feared and respected," she murmured, but it was a poor argument, if one at all.

She felt it-and Achilles knew, for he saw it in her eyes as she stared at him, expectantly, and smiled softly, as her soft brown eyes fell to his azure ones, waiting for something she could not place.

How did she know? Perhaps because she was so close to him, or due to her training for a life in the temple, or perhaps she had a touch of a clairvoyant in her blood, but all the same, it was there.

"I'll tell you a secret...one they don't teach you in the temple."

She leaned forward, enraptured, and Achilles slid even closer, so not but a few tense inches lay between them.

"_The gods envy us_. They envy us because we're mortal. Because any moment might be our last. Everything's more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We..." His final statement stuck in his throat like a hunk of thick honeycomb, "_May _never be here again."

She sat, awed, yet assured after many years of deep turmoil. She had thought these things, many years ago, and never dared to speak them aloud. But this brute, this soldier, whom she believed to be so below her, so piteous for his ignorance and naivety, had come to the same conclusions as educated royalty. Her head, cleared of its fog, now spun with a harsh and very violent realization of society, class, and the gods.

After assuring she was comfortable and settled, the once hero of the Greeks lay upon his furs bare, and awaiting the moment when brave Breseis would attempt to slay him as he slept.

He watched as she crawled to his armor, where she found his bronze plated blade. She stared at it, weighing it in her hands before glancing at him where he lay, still and silent as he watched her from beneath his nearly closed lids. She stood, slowly, on weakened legs before kneeling beside him. She raised it above her once, then slowly lowered it in indecision, before raising it again, intending to plunge it into his open, scarred chest.

She was shaking, he realized. Her breathing was labored, and she was obviously struggling to commit a murder she could never truly go through with.

Achilles waited for her to push the blade along his throat before making the move that would mould his future for the rest of his life.

In an instant, fate had changed. Breseis, unable to kill the man who would ultimately destroy her home, and unable to watch her beloved city fall, the priestess placed the gold knife to her to her throat, intending on ending her own suffering.

Discordia stopped time, looking as shocked to be needed as Achilles was to see his beloved attempt to end her life.

Discordia saw the woman kneeling and nodded in quick understanding.

"Our agreement stands," she murmured, "Stop her now."

Achilles, although confused and infuriated, grasped the hilt of the blade as time began anew and the goddess of chaos disappeared into the cold Trojan winds, leaving the two alone with their inner and outer struggles.

Breseis' eyes were as large as a does before struck with a spear.

"How...did you...?"

Achilles threw the blade to the sand with more force than necessary.

"What are you doing?" He snapped, grasping her shoulders and shaking her hard.

"I...I..." she shook in fear, whether of her own actions of his blatant fury, he did not know.

"Am I so awful, Breseis? So monstrous that you intend to slay yourself to escape my reach?" Although he spoke softly, his words were far louder and more vindictive than she was prepared for, "If so, I will not let you. I will stow away every knife, every sword and blade-"

"It is not you," she finally was able to choke out, "But what you will do and I cannot do."

The hero snarled, "Speak plainly, girl, for you tire me greatly."

She tried to free herself from his painfully tight grasp and he held her still, locking their eyes.

"You...you are to destroy my home, slaughter the soldiers, the sons and fathers, the elders, throw the babes from the towers and make slaves of the women. There you lay, unprotected, and, from what I believed, deep under Hypnoses spell-yet I could not slay you, could not shed your blood..." She spoke with an odd emptiness, her hands cold against his leg, but despite so, she continued,

"So I must die," tears gathered in the seam where her lashes met, "Because..."

"Breseis," he shook her again, making her stare at him openly, "I will not allow you to mock the gods so. For your life is a gift given by them, and to return it as such would be a disgrace upon you and the fates," he rubbed the well of her cheek, catching tears on his thumbs and wiping them away.

"Do not leave me," he murmured to her, "Not while there is still time."

Her gaze fell to his mouth before rising again.

"Time for what?" She whispered.

"Time to change," he answered, cupping her jaw and tilting her head up and connecting their mouths.

Although the night was different, the outcome was, thankfully, the same.

**Sorry it got a little...preachy at the end. I don't know, if I was in her place, I wouldn't want to watch the end of my home and become a slave. Anyway, please review! I did as everyone asked!**


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